a shock, not a kiss
by markedandtied
Summary: Caroline can vividly recall the searing kisses and heated moments between them, but then the memory she'd rather suppress swims back to her, and she raises a shaking hand to her still bloody neck: a memento of the night before.


**title: **a shock, not a kiss  
**notes:** set during the morning after in 1.03, a retelling

_he says don't think, don't talk, but i don't think i want to. and the touch of your lips, it's __**a shock, not a kiss**__. it's electric twist, it's electric twist._

As Caroline's eyes flutter open, that usual morning bleariness is dispelled by a sudden, gripping anxiety as flashes of the night before come flooding back. She sits upright, taking a hesitant sidelong glance to find the body of a man she barely knows asleep next to her in _her _bed. She'd been trying so hard, was so blindly attracted, she never came to realize that she knew practically nothing about him before she'd invited him up to her bedroom. Caroline can recall quite vividly the searing kisses and heated moments between them but then the memory she'd rather suppress—the one that sets her pulse beating rather unwisely faster—swims back to her, and she raises a shaking hand to her still bloody neck: a memento of the night before.

Almost unwillingly, she moves her glance to the mirror, inspecting the right job he's done in bloodying her up. She figures it might've been more comforting to her mind if he'd hurt her elsewhere too; the lone wound to her neck sets her mind wandering down paths she'd rather not follow. With another tentative look toward the man who did this to her—the beautiful, dangerous, thrilling man, whose touch she could recall both with a headiness and wariness—Caroline makes her decision.

Carefully, she slides out of bed and shifts slowly toward the door. As she hits a creak in her floorboards, she shoots a nervous glance back to the bed to see he's still sleeping there. Reassured, she takes several more quiet steps towards the door and when she's close enough, she casts one final glance back to find her bed disturbingly empty.

"Going somewhere?"

She whips around to see him standing imposingly behind her. Stunned to silence, Caroline can only retreat backwards toward her door, whimpering quietly. He advances on her and in a matter of steps, her back hits the door and there's nowhere left to run. He leaves just enough space between them to be both tempting and threatening.

"W-What are you?" she stutters out in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

"Oh, Caroline," he drawls, in that voice so assured and in control of the situation, "I think you already know the answer to that, don't you?" He raises an eyebrow suggestively at her, the corner of his mouth turning into a smirk. Her fear fuels his amusement; he lives for this sort of thing.

Unconsciously, Caroline moves a hand to her neck, fingertips brushing the dried, cracked blood there. She refuses to believe. "That. . . _that is impossible_," she contests, her lackluster confidence betraying her doubts.

"Aww, come now, you and I both know that's not true." He steps forward, closing the gap and rests a hand flat by her neck. His thumb traces her collarbone and up to the hollow at the base of her throat before he moves his hand to sit more comfortably at the nape of her neck.

"Why?" she whispers, needing answers and certainty now. "I saw you, a-at the Grill and in town. _You_ smiled at _me_. I thought—I don't know. That you were something good for me, not. . . not _this_." Caroline cannot bring herself to say it, disbelief still clinging to her. His proximity clouds her head, both from fear and a fatal attraction.

"And here I thought we had a good time together. At least, I know I did," he smirks.

Caroline knows she cannot deny that and doesn't try, somehow knowing he'd be able to sense the lie. For all the horror, the moments before were measured as nothing but the hottest night she can possibly remember.

"Are you going to hurt me again?" she whispers, fear masquerading as logic at a time like this and it's all she can think to ask. Caroline needs to know.

"I could, if I wanted to," he muses, that devilish smirk crossing his lips. "But it doesn't have to hurt, you know. This could all go a completely different way." His thumb gently strokes her jaw before he leans in and kisses her. It's different from the night before: it's gentle, not rough, and impossibly brief.

That is, until Caroline cannot help herself and she presses her lips back against his.

She can feel the smile on his lips beneath hers and she wonders idly what the fuck she's doing. It's blatant that he's dangerous; that he has no qualms when it comes to hurting her; that he could kill her without a second thought. And yet, that is exactly where the attraction comes from. The fact that there is an impossible allure to him—a thrilling sense of danger that he exudes with every wicked smile and arrogant word, which makes Caroline shiver in both pleasure and terror. He's a risk. It's something she cannot resist—something that creates an insatiable need in her because for all she wants to deny it, he's the only guy who's ever been able to kiss her like this. That she knows is an unquestionable truth, and it seems to outweigh the self-preservational need to keep well enough away.

Not that she could escape him, even if she tried.

Her hand moves to the side of his face, the tips of her fingers brushing idly through his hair, while she steadies herself with the other against his bare chest. At the sudden physical contact from her, he pulls away only slightly, breaking the kiss.

"So, if it doesn't hurt," she begins, a thumb ghosting across his lips, "what does it feel like?"

"Would you like to find out?" he challenges suggestively. The words exhilarate her and before she can think it through clearly, his mouth is back on hers, more urgently than before. Slowly his lips trail down the wounded side of her neck and at that, he pulls back.

The man Caroline sees is different: overcome by bloodlust, in a way that should be frightening but is honestly extremely sexual. Carefully, Caroline brings a trembling hand to brush her hair from her neck and onto the other shoulder. Her fingertips trace the exposed skin before falling to her side and she looks up to him with a determination in her eyes.

He smiles down at her in that savagely sensual way before he pulls her a little closer and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck.


End file.
